CHEF SANDWICH

Friday, January 30, 2015

Herring
melts or milts – the soft, creamy roe of male herrings (vastly different from
the female ‘hard roe’) - have to be one
of the most underrated foods in my book. Especially given the fairly cheap
price – about £4 a kilo. You often see them on fish counters, but I never see
anyone buying them. Just the odd pensioner - probably an overhang from a time
when they were a lot more popular – which is a real shame as they make a
delicious lunch or light supper.

There
are plenty of ways of cooking them, but I think the best is to have them on
toast with ‘devilled’ spices thrown in, as in this recipe below. They have the
texture of scrambled egg, somehow, and are apparently packed full of vitamin D,
whatever that is.

200g
herring melts

3
tbsp flour

2
tsp mustard powder

2
tsp smoked paprika

1
garlic clove, finely chopped

Salt
and pepper

2
tbsp butter

Put
the roes in a colander and swill under the cold water tap, then drain in the
colander. Meanwhile, get a clean plastic bag and put in the flour, mustard, garlic, paprika and salt and pepper. Pinch the top of the bag and shake. Then toss in
the roes.

Grip the top of the bag again, and give the bag a good shake to ensure the melts are
evenly coated in the seasoned flour. Melt the butter in a frying pan over a medium
heat for a minute or so and then lay the melts in the pan.

Cook for three
minutes until well sealed on the bottom then turn over and cook for another two
minutes. Season to taste. Serve on hot buttered toast.

Thursday, July 10, 2014

This is the second in a series of blog posts I
intend to post about my experimentations with cooking in a kettle. I was put on
to the idea by a bloke I met in Cambodia and cooked some fairly decent meals in
cheap hotel rooms out there.

But since I’ve been back, I’ve been experimenting
further with cooking times etc. and asking people for suggestions.

This one came from an Australian woman called
Sarah I work with. Her mother used to make her this when she was ill. The Jews
have chicken soup, the Australians have their own brothy penicillin in Vegemite
soup it seems.

It really couldn’t be simpler, and the beauty is
of course you can “cook” it in a kettle, which after all is the point of these
recipes. I have to say I’ve cooked it twice, and preferred it better the second
time.

Perhaps I didn’t pick up on the gastronomic subtleties
on first tasting, but it definitely has a moreish quality, and I imagine with
the “B vitamins for vitality” so prominently displayed on the rather garishly-coloured Vegemite tube is a good pick-me-up if you’re feeling under the weather Down Under, or anywhere
else for that matter.

Sarah’s mother sends her a parcel of Vegemite tubes
every couple of months or so to stop her getting homesick, and she was kind
enough to give me a tube so I could try out her delicious recipe.

Like all Australians she detests Marmite, and
swears this soup should only be made with 100% Australian yeast extract grown
on barley and wheat ie. Vegemite. She also recommends coating warm hard-boiled
eggs with the stuff so that it melts and gives, I imagine, a 1,000-year-old
eggs-style coating.

Vegemite Soup

Equipment

1 kettle

1 bowl

1 soup spoon

Ingredients

1 slice of bread

Water

Vegemite

Fill the
kettle with about half a pint (250ml) of water and boil. While you’re doing
this carefully prepare your soup base. Using the spoon, gently spread enough
Vegemite so the bread is completely covered.

It’s important to get a consistent covering for
aesthetic purposes, and after all, as chefs will continually tell you if you
give them half a chance - you eat with your eyes.

The next bit is a tad more tricky. Take your bowl
and carefully press the bread into it so it’s evenly centred with the corners
poking up into four peaks. The Vegemite side should be facing up.

Pour in enough water to half fill the bowl and let
it rest for two minutes to amalgamate the flavours and give the bread a doughy
- almost melted cheese - consistency. Serve immediately.

About Alex Watts

Author of bestselling food and travel book Down And Out In South East Asia - an adventure story, spiked with a heavy dose of backpacker noir, through the eateries, street food stalls, and hazy bars of Cambodia, Vietnam, and Thailand. Available as an eBook and a paperback.

It's the sequel to Down And Out In Padstow And London - a humorous account of the years I spent training as a chef, including stints at Heston Blumenthal's Fat Duck and Rick Stein's kitchens in Cornwall. Available as an eBook and paperback.